Seeing him lose confidence was painful.
With each disappointment, he moved a little closer to the taciturn man he had become after his mother's death.
He stopped singing again.
He was constantly checking his phone.
He reread old conversations as if the answer might suddenly appear.
The fourth woman disappeared after saying she wanted to introduce him to her sister.
The fifth one disappeared after making plans for the weekend.
When the sixth one did exactly the same thing, I knew something was wrong.
Six women might lose interest.
It was possible.
But six women wouldn't all disappear the next morning after promising another date.
I asked my father if anything unusual had happened during those evenings.
He looked genuinely confused.
"No. Why?"
"Did you argue with them?"
"Of course not."
"Did you say anything that might have frightened them?"
His expression tightened.
"Who do you think I am?"
"That's not what I meant."
He turned to the sink and began rinsing a cup that was already clean.
I knew I had hurt him.
"I just want to understand," I said.
"Me too."
That evening, I called my best friend Rachel and asked her for a favor.
We had known each other since university.
Rachel was brutally honest.
She could charm an entire room, and yet she could also detect a lie before most people had even finished telling it.
If my father did something wrong, she would notice.
"Go on a date with him."
She laughed.
"Are you kidding?"
"I'm serious."
His laughter faded away.
"Lola, this is your father."
"I know."
"And he knows me."
"He has only met you a few times."
"That doesn't make it any less strange."
I explained everything.
I told him about the six women, the successful dates, and how each of them disappeared overnight.
Rachel remained silent for several moments.
"So you want me to investigate him?"
"I want you to tell me what's going on."
"And what exactly am I supposed to say when he recognizes me?"
"Tell him we met through the app. He might remember your face, but not your name."
Rachel moaned.
"That's a terrible idea."
"Probably."
"That could ruin my friendship with you."
" No. "
"This could ruin your relationship with your father."
The idea terrified me, but I kept my voice calm.
"I need to know."
She reluctantly agreed.
The meeting went even better than expected.
Rachel called next.
"Your father is wonderful," she said.
"I can't believe no one gave him a chance."
A wave of relief washed over me.
"So nothing strange happened?"
"Nothing. He was kind, funny, and respectful. We talked for almost three hours."
"Did he mention another date?"
"He asked me if I wanted to have dinner again next Friday."
"What did you say?"
"I said yes."
For the first time in weeks, I slept peacefully.
The next morning, Rachel had also disappeared.
I called before going to work.
No response.
I tried again at noon.
Directly to voicemail.
I sent several messages to find out if she was okay.
No delivery has been made.
As evening fell, a text message finally arrived.
"Please don't contact me."
I knew right away that it wasn't Rachel.
Even during our worst arguments, she would always call instead of disappearing.
I went straight to his apartment.
His car was parked outside.
The lights were on.
But no one answered the door.
I pounded until my knuckles ached, I shouted his name through the door and tried calling him again.
Nothing.
A neighbor entered the hallway.
" Everything is fine ? "
"I don't know," I admitted.
I waited in my car outside his building for almost an hour, watching for any sign of movement through his windows.
Nothing happened.
The following afternoon, she finally called.
His voice was trembling.
"I can't explain over the phone."
"When can we meet?" I asked.
"Tomorrow morning."
I barely slept that night.
The next morning, I crossed paths with her in front of her office before she went inside.
She looked exhausted.
Her face was pale, and she kept glancing towards the entrance as if she wanted to escape.
"What happened?" I asked. "What did my father do?"
Without saying a word, she handed me her phone.
Her hands were shaking so much that I had to take it from her.
A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
"Stay away from him. You have no idea what he's capable of."
Below it was a photo of Rachel leaving the restaurant with my father.
It was clear that the photo had been taken from the other side of the street.
I had a knot in my stomach.
"When did you get that?" I asked.
"About 20 minutes after I got home."
I scrolled up.
There were other messages.
The person who sent them knew Rachel's address.
They knew where she worked.
They even knew the name of his younger brother, Graham.
The last message was the worst.
"If you contact him or Lola again, Graham will find out what happened in Philadelphia."
I looked at Rachel.
"What happened in Philadelphia?"
Shame filled her eyes.
"Nothing criminal. Graham had drug problems three years ago. He disappeared for two days. I found him in a motel and brought him home. Nobody knows about it except my family."
"How could that person know?"
"I don't know."
"Why did you tell me not to contact you?"
Rachel hugged herself tightly.
"Because the message arrived seconds after your call. Whoever sent it knew you were trying to reach me."
A shiver ran through me.
Someone was watching us both.
I asked Rachel to forward all the messages and photos to me.
She hesitated before accepting.
"Be careful, Lola," she said. "She's neither a jilted woman nor a jealous stranger."
"Do you think my father is involved?"
"I think it's someone from his inner circle."
I wanted to defend him.
